The Future That Wasn't
by YourDarkMistress
Summary: The Cuban Missile Crisis was more than just a crisis. America and Germany draft plans for war with the USSR and have a somber conversation about the future of the world. "You also understand, I presume, that I will not live through this?"   Drabble-ish.


The Future That Wasn't

The bombs came in October of 1962. Despite the obvious warning signs and telling newspaper headlines, America had remained certain, perhaps indignantly so, that nothing was going to happen. However, it did, and all pretenses of peace were discarded.

Florida was hit first. It made sense, considering the state was that closest to Cuba. America watched Miami and Tallahassee go up in flames and a burst of radiation, collapsing soon after. This was much worse than Pearl Harbor. This was worse than any pain conceivable.

Not long after, congress declared war on Cuba. The island was gone now, no more than a sliver of uninhabitable land in the middle of the ocean. It would be hundreds of years before it was inhabitable again and America lamented the loss of his Caribbean military base. He would have to build a new one in Puerto Rico, and nobody could venture a guess as to how many taxpayers dollars would be needed to fund such a project.

His congress planned on declaring war with the USSR within the next few hours, considering the soviet nation had not yet done it himself. America was almost hesitant. He knew that there would be no forgiveness – from anyone – for what he was about to do, but he also knew that it had to be done.

Before it was, however, he needed to plan. Planning almost helped war move a bit more smoothly. And to help him plan the end of the world, he decided that it would be best to include the king of planning, Germany himself.

Surprisingly, the European was not unwilling to help him. Hardened as he was, he saw the necessity of anticipating the enemy's movements. There was a hint of selfishness in his motives, considering he was a mere hop, skip, and a strategic missile away from socialist territory, but he made no jokes about avoiding the war all together.

America was surprisingly prepared, in his opinion. In his years as the head of the bipolar world, he had grown a tad more intelligent. He had even purchased a world map; it was color coded as well. His allies were highlighted in blue, his enemies in red.

There was a lot of red.

"I suggest you allow me in. I don't have another access point to Russia right now and I think you'd prefer it if I didn't mow your entire country over." Germany nodded absently, eyes trained on America's hip rather than his face. "I mean, I'm heading in through the west from Alaska of course, and I'm preparing for an Asian front, but it's a long way to Moscow. I'd rather start with my traditional forces; maybe kick it up with the H-bombs after he completely obliterates the first few waves. Don't want NATO to look like the bad guy, you know what I mean?"

Again Germany nodded, pulling his gaze away from the heavy bandaging. "I understand. You also understand, I presume, that I will not live through this war either way, correct?"

The American chuckled, running his fingers through his hair and shaking his head. He looked like he wanted to deny it, but he did not. "Yeah. Yeah, I know." The pregnant pause that was sired between them was one full of dissatisfaction and regret. Finally America leaned up against their card table and met the German's eyes. "I wish there was some way for me to assure you that your sacrifice – everyone's sacrifices – will be for the best of man kind. It's either we fight for what we believe in or we go as red as roses."

"I know."

"Dude, I _wish_ there was some other way, seriously, but I just…I don't have any clear terrestrial access to Europe. The Baltic shoreline is completely blockaded, and I know for a fact that Russia plans on using his H-bombs right from the start. I need to play this carefully."

"You will." Germany's gaze again shifted down to the tight wrappings. America self-consciously scratched at them, pulling at the edges. "Does it hurt?"

America did not sugar coat. "Yes. Like nothing you've ever experienced before."

Germany could accept this. He had experienced pain and he had caused a good deal of it. When the time came for him to face his end in the fire of a thousand suns, well…he would just have to accept that. "Will it…do you think it would be quick?"

The younger boy shrugged. "Maybe. I guess it depends on where you're hit."

There was silence.

"You're very calm about this. I imagined that you would be freaking our right now, in that round-about nervous sort of way that you freak out."

Another shrug. "I'm channeling my inner German. A lot of my people are German." He pushed his glasses up his nose.

There was a slight resemblance between the two. They were both blond, well built, had blue eyes. They could both drink most others under the table and held strong grudges. America had been a refuge for the outcasts of society, for the hungry, the tired and the poor. It was no wonder there were so many German people in America.

There was also a strong Russian influence around the boys shoulders. He held himself with the same air and his aura was almost as intimidating.

"What does it feel like? The power to destroy the world, I mean."

"Well…ah, I can't really…" He took a deep breath. "It's like this…a buzzing almost, in the back of your head and across your skin. Like electricity only…on fire, if that makes sense. If you've never felt it, you can't understand it."

"But I'll feel it soon."

"Yeah. If you want, before it comes to that, I can let you borrow some of mine to use as weapons or just deterrence or whatever. You probably should have made some of your own, just in case it came down to this."

He had never wanted to carry such a burden, but he knew the peace it would bring to the minds of his people. "Yes. I…I appreciate it." He took a breath. "I never thought it would come to this."

"Neither did I, dude."

Germany sighed and sat down in one of the folding chairs. He picked up one of the pawns they were using to represent missile defense towers and played with it in his fingers.

"Who do you think will go first?"

"Definitely Poland. I have to cut right through there and it's no secret the Ruskis and the Poloks don't get along; he won't be sparing on them, Warsaw Pact or not. After that probably East Germany. Unless, of course you plan on trying to take him back."

Germany shook his head. "I wouldn't bother. He'd be dead by the time I got to him anyway."

"That's what I thought. It's a shame. He could have been of use."

"He's not an object."

"That's not what I meant. You know I respected the old guy. He was to you what England is to me."

The silence between them was unsettling. America, not knowing what else to do, picked up his pen and drew a line on the map. It cut through West Germany and into East Berlin, where he planted a small 'X'.

"Look," he said, running his fingers through his hair and ignoring the questioning and slightly horrified look directed at his mark. "I don't mean this as an insult so much as a favor. I…I had planned on circumventing East Berlin, convenience and all, but we both know that West Berlin is going to be the USSR's first European target. He's going to use an H-bomb there at some point. Maybe even right away. You'll die quick, but your brother…if you want, I can make it really easy. I'll, uh, I'll raze the place. It won't kill him, but it'll put him out, at least. After that it'll be mostly painless."

Again, the silence was unsettling, but this time because the decision was one that nobody wanted to have to make. Germany knew that both he and his brother would die. He knew that it would be painful. He knew that they would both wish they were dead long before they actually died. He also knew that his brother had always been his protector. His brother had shielded him from harm, from pain, from death. He sighed.

"What would you do? If it was England."

America licked his lips and thrummed his fingers against the card table. "I don't know. I don't think I'm selfless enough to do it."

"Neither do I. But, then again, I won't be the one doing it." America looked up and their eyes locked. "You'll do it; I won't. I won't kill my brother, but I don't want him to…go through that."

"Right. I guess I'm less German than I thought."

"You're German enough to go through with _this_." He gestured to the marked-up map before clapping the younger man on the shoulder and relieving him of his pen. "Now look, you've left your entire southern border open. Do you honestly think that Mexico is going to protect you from the Russians?"

"The only people who've ever attacked me from Mexico are the Mexicans."

"I almost did. And what about the north? Do you have that much faith in Canada?"

"I do. He'll protect me. We started on his weapons program a few days ago, between you and me. It's very small, very covert, but he's got potential. His scientists are probably working on the fuel rods right now. Of course, he's under complete U.S. supervision. Just in case."

"Of course. Be careful though, you may turn into what you fear most."

America shifted uncomfortably. "You've been staring at my hip."

The German looked away, embarrassed, before realizing the futility of his actions and refocusing his gaze. "Yes. You're the first to be hit with an H-bomb. I was just wondering what it looked like. Whole nations are going to look like that soon, I might as well be prepared."

America pulled his bomber jacket – not the same one from the second Great War; this one was green and a thin, insulated fabric – over his shoulders and tugged it over his bare chest and exposed bandages. "You don't want to see it. You saw Japan after Hiroshima and Nagasaki?" Germany nodded. "Imagine that, only darker. Like dead, burnt flesh that will never head. Like cigarette ashes. Like dried coal. You can imagine it, but you don't ever want to see it."

Germany nodded, accepting the answer but promising himself to work the younger man at a later date. The conversation stalled and the pair returned to their work. It was no surprise to the German that America was a talented tactician, almost as talented as his brother was. The man was young though, and he left his left flank open near constantly and this was where Germany showed him his fallacy. America would laugh it off, clutching his concealed bandaging when his sides began to ache. The plans were concluded not long after. It was decided that it would be best to put Poland as well as East Germany out of his misery before the real trouble began. There was little chance that the man could live through another invasion and genocide. As soon as war was declared they would put their baby into action. Alfred ripped the yellow bottom from the carbon-paper map and stuffed it away in the hem of his pants. When he returned home, his president would be briefed.

"How are your plans for Asia progressing?" Germany asked as he folded the card table. He folded the original copy of the map as well and stuffed it into one of his pockets. America was handling the collapsible chairs.

"Alright. Japan's a big help. He knows that China's got it out for him, and it's only a matter of time before he gets involved. Besides, my presence there is still strong enough that he does whatever I want."

"Sort of like how I do?"

America smirked and light bounced off his glasses, obscuring his eyes. "Sort of." He straightened himself. "But you understand this is the only way. We're not fighting for Germany or Japan or America here. We're fighting for the future of humanity."

The air that filled his lungs tasted stale and somber. The air around America had tasted that way since the first bombs were dropped. Soon, the whole world would taste stale and somber. "Of course I do. I've fought for the future of humanity before, if you've forgotten. Be careful, you're still only a child, Alfred. An adult but a child and you cannot possibly understand how terrible you will feel after all of this, whether you loose or not. Believe me."

The smirk faded into a soft, knowing smile and for a second America did not seem the child Germany had just accused him of being. "I know, dude. But I won't loose. Remember? I'm the Hero." He yawned and arched his back as far as he could without pulling at his bandaging. "Man, I'm hungry. Wanna go for food? I'm craving something dripping in grease. _Is_ there KFC in Germany?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: First oneshot in what feels like forever -_-' I should be studdying for midterms...oh well!

This has been in my head for a while. Just a drabble-ish conversation based on the future that never was. Everything I said about foreign relations (other than the Cold War turning into WWIII and what happened as a result) is based on my knowledge of nuclear WMDs and international politics at the time. The Russians did plan on using the H-bomb from the start, America did have significant influence over Japan and Germany, the Chinese did have it out for the Japanese, and it most certainly would have been the end of the world. I don't know if there are any KFC's in Germany, though I presume not.

I went through editing it a few times, but I apologize if I missed anything. Also, for those who don't know, Polok and Ruski are derogatory terms for Russians and the Polish, courtesy of my Grandfather (who likes to make fun of my Polish/Russian Grandmother). And cookies to anyone who caught all of my exceptionally vague historical references~

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! I have another one shot on the way, and am working on X over Y, though don't expect a chapter for a while. Please review and tell me what you think! I needs the reviews!


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